


Homecoming

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: She's been gone, and he's happy to see her home.





	

Phasma feels the giddy skip in her stomach as they approach his quarters (his, still, because this affair is illicit even now, and likely always). No one is around, and no one sees two armour-clad Humans walk through the door.

Once it closes, she’s backed into it, and her hands go to his waist as he relieves her carefully of her helmet. She breathes deeply, enjoying unfiltered air, and waits for him to slide back his cowl, and remove his own mask. 

Her hands still on his waist, over the thick belt there. He’s so warm, but her gloves mean she can’t feel it, not yet. For a moment, just a moment, they stand like this. His hands hold onto her upper arms, pressing the chromium in harder to her biceps. Their eyes meet, and track over one another’s faces. 

There’s no changes, and she knows each line and curve intimately, but she still wants to refresh the picture she keeps carried deep inside. Tracing the lines anew, restoring the colours to full glory.

“I missed you so much,” he says, with recrimination, regret, and relief. 

She went, but she came back. Sometimes he goes, but he comes back. Over and over, this parting and reuniting. One day it might not happen, but every time it does it’s bittersweetly wonderful.  

Any moment now, the surface tension will break. The bubble will burst, and movement will happen. She likes those times, but she also likes this before-time. This unspoken agreement, breathing close, knowing things will happen. Not knowing _which_ way they will fall, or if Kylo can read her desires in the Force, or if he can see them already five minutes into their future. The Force is inexplicable, and though he tries, she will never understand it. 

His thumbs make a slight screech of leather over metal, and they both shudder in synchrony. It’s a slow day, and that suits her just fine. Her pulse kicks up a notch as he undresses her, and she lets him. She wants to savour the freedom from the shell she’s in, and his fingers work her catches and stays with long-practised ease. 

The sections clunk to the deck, and his hands smooth over the undershirt below. It’s more sensual than sexual, although she’s certainly enjoying it. His fingers know where things constrict or rub, and he eases circulation back into her, taking over her personal rituals as a service. 

When he’s done, she steps out of the last sections, and reaches up to start undressing him. She’s still in the simple black fabrics, but those can wait. She feels the swell of his muscles, the way they twitch just a little under her fingertips. Like unwrapping the finest candy, or the juiciest fruit, she prises him from his own coverings. 

When they make it to the bed, they’re still in the simplest of clothing. She’s tired, and she doesn’t feel like slamming into things right now. She should probably sleep, but she doesn’t want to, not yet. Instead, they lie on his bed and their fingers lock together as their legs lace. Slow kisses, like messages lagging over a poor holo-comm. Kiss, counter-kiss. His nose touching her cheek, his lips chafed below her own. His tongue - so smart, so wicked - soft when she sucks it inside, making it clear what she wants. His knee between her thighs, and she slowly rubs herself there, feeling her arousal slowly build. 

The words they do share are quiet, but they say so much more. His fingers over her belly, and between her lips. She’s getting wetter by the moment, and the light pinch and rub is enough to make her hiss. She clamps herself closed around his one finger, the one that circles her entrance and asks permission. She returns the favour, stroking him through his boxers, tapping at the crown and enjoying how full he is for her. 

“May I?”  


She’d never imagined Kylo Ren would be a perfect gentleman. Why would she? He was known for his temper, and his talents. That temper was definitely still there, but he never directed it at her. Since they’d become intimate, he’d shown her nothing but the utmost of respect, and she was so grateful for his love. It’s not as if she’s known many men, but she can tell this one is special.

She nods, and they shimmy their underthings off. He kisses her neck and throat, as she holds his cock and they shuffle closer. His hand cups her breast, circling and pinching, and she pushes him into her. The angle and power from a sideways joining, lying facing one another, means the thrusting is shallow and not very fierce. It means they can go on longer, and he moves his hand to rub her outer lips, her mound, her clit. The double stimulation is great, and she grinds into it, pushing her hand into his hair and begging for kisses.

Kisses to her jaw, to the corner of her lips, and then full on. She pushes her tongue into his mouth in step with their rolling, and she waits until she can’t take it any more. Shoving him backwards, she surges onto him, riding his cock for all she’s worth. His hands move to her ass, clutching, tugging her cheeks apart, and slamming her harder down. 

Phasma is close. So close. His kisses are sloppier, and she knows he’s close, too. The contact breaks, and their foreheads touch as she whines and feels him firm and hot inside of her. Harder. Faster. Deeper. She’s going to come first if she’s not careful, not that she’d mind being fucked through her blissful phase. 

He’s so good inside of her, and the hands on her ass, the mouth on her breast, it’s all so wonderful. She touches herself, fingering her lips hard as she gets there, and she judders through her climax. Her body clearly isn’t going to give her another today, but she tightens her walls around him, urging him to fill her up. 

Eyes meeting, a little smile, and he follows her shortly after. Warm, warm, and connected. It’s good to be home.


End file.
